Wet Memories
by kbeto
Summary: Tom's confused, Danny's acting weird, Harry's meditating and Dougie is, erm, /exercising/. Have you ever searched for something you hadn't lost? Well, Tom surely is sick of playing hide-and-seek with his clothing. Flones, rated T for some bad puns, perviness, and some more implied perviness.


_Disclaimer: I don't own any Disney elements or anything you'll find in this piece._

_A/N: Implied naughtiness, and it's only 5% Dougie's fault. Shocking, uh? There are some other pervy prompts from imagineyourOTP that I'll be playing with, but nothing heavy! *shrugs* It so felt like writing 'WAGB?'. With less puns, I believe._

_I'll use this space to wish you all a Happy New Year. Thanks **Nonnie,** **Marvin** **Fletcher**, **Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful**, **corruptedPOV** for sticking with me through the bad times. I really appreciate that! Bye, y'all! XX_

_**Anonymous** Glad to hear that. We all need a little break! ;) Happy New Year to you, too! :D_

_You can always count on Tom to keep the magic of Christmas alive. I know I would probably just chuck him and the twins out the window, if they woke me like they did to Danny. I'm not really a Christmas person and I always wake up in a bad mood. :P BWAhahaha!_

_I think Danny's a bit pervy but nowhere near Dougie's level, too. Tom's lucky because it's Harry who has to deal with the **real** perviness. ;) Haha! I'm glad you enjoyed the mindless fluff, dear. :D Oh yeah, I know a little bit about the painful OTPs on DW. I've seen many gifs on tumblr and Billie Piper is a cutie!_

Wet Memories

There's nothing worse than searching for something that you hadn't lost. Tom could attest to this fact with all property in the world, after he had been rummaging through his –and the boys'– freshly washed clothes for an hour straight. He knew that pieces like socks easily got lost, and that's the very reason he bought one of those laundry bags used to keep smaller pieces like underwear and other small garments from being eaten by washing machines. Needless to say, it didn't seem to work much.

"I'll ask the boys," Tom sighed, pushing himself off the floor and going in search of each of his band mates. He promptly found Harry meditating in the living room, and after a moment of indecision called out to him. "Hey, Harry, have you seen my lucky socks?"

"The Ghostbusters ones?" Harry opened an eye, seemingly not too irritated from having his concentration broken. "I'm afraid not, mate."

"I thought so," Tom gave him a small smile. "Thanks, and sorry for interrupting. I'll try Dougs."

Harry dismissed it with a wave of his hand and closed his eye once more, focusing again on the melodic tune playing, as well as the faint scent from an incense stick burning. Maybe Tom should try it sometime, too, he thought. Usually the drummer would be at least a bit pissed about being interrupted for no reason, a sign that all the spiritual thing has been working wonders for him.

Marching up the stairs, Tom barely avoided running into Danny for an inch or two; the freckled boy jumped outside his own room with a very unusual lump in his front pocket, looking rather anxious.

"Dan, where's the fire?" Tom chuckled. He wouldn't say it out loud, but Danny looked just like he had been caught shoplifting, or something, his blue eyes getting twice as wide when he recognised Tom.

"Tom!" he exclaimed with genuine surprise. "I mean, Tom, what can I do for ya?" his tone reverted to one more casual in seconds.

Tom's thick eyebrow shot up. The way Danny acted reminded him of that time he caught the brunet giving an young Dougie some beer. "I'm looking for my lucky socks, have you see them?"

"No, I don't." The response came too quickly. It took Tom much effort not to ask what Danny was hiding from him, when the singer smiled and spoke again. "I think I, uh, forgot something in the oven, yeah? Let me know if ya need help, Tommy."

"He's definitely hiding something... but what exactly?"

~#~

"This better be important, T-bag. I was in the middle of a _serious_ exercise," Dougie nodded to himself, his serious expression providing him a rather thoughtful air.

"The 'muscle' you were 'exercising' isn't going to grow, you tosser," Tom snorted, secretly thankful that Dougie had the decency of hiding his 'toys' away. "Have you seen my lucky socks?"

"I am utterly shocked that you would think that of me, but I'm not a sock thief," Dougie retorted, feigning disbelief. One of the best things about Dougie would ever be his flair for ultra dramatic stuff, and Tom without a doubt tried his hardest not to laugh. "Besides, I am the _biggest member_ in this band, I don't need those things."

"I'm– I'm going to clean my ears with bleach, that was your worst yet!" The guitarist guffawed, shaking his head and leaving Dougie to his affairs. Before he closed the door, though, he heard Dougie yell _"it's probably in the same place you left them."_

With no better clues that led him to the missing pieces, Tom found himself again on the floor, going through their clean clothes. As expected, no sign of said socks, which made him a bit exasperated. It wouldn't be much of a problem if just one went missing... but a pair? Very unlikely.

"And I really liked them," Tom sighed.

"Tom? Weren't you looking for these?" Harry chucked a small ball to the blond. "Found in the laundry basket just now."

"Thanks, Haz," Tom replied, feeling confused. The ball turned out to be his lost socks, yes, but something felt odd in all that: he remembered putting them in the wash bag (even checked it before asking the boys) and he _never_ folded socks like that. In fact, only one of his friends did that. _"Could it be... why would he?"_

~#~

A week passed till another piece from Tom's wardrobe went missing. This time it was his black hoodie that seemed to have dug a grave and buried itself in the deepest depths of hell, because after a whole day searching the four corners of their band house, he still found nothing. Harry and Dougie helped him look for it, though the missing hoodie wasn't among their clothes, either.

"I'm home, lads!" Danny bellowed from downstairs, leaving his bag by the sofa. He had been visiting his family in Bolton for the weekend, completely unaware of the last events.

"Hey, Dan! Good timing, I need to ask you–"

"What ya need, Tommy?"

Tom's jaw dropped a bit. "You're wearing my hoodie," he pointed out, slightly confused.

"I am?" Danny blinked twice, taking a good look at himself. "Tha' explains why I don't remember buying this one. I knew it smelt _too_ nice to be mine," he chuckled well-humoured, before removing the item and passing back to its rightful owner along with a tight hug.

"What's happening here?" Tom asked himself, watching Danny climb the stairs with a bag slung over his shoulder and whistling a happy tune.

~#~

"I don't know if it caught your attention, but not even Dougie loses clothes as often as you, Tom."

"Thanks for your attempt of complimenting me, Harry," Dougie scoffed.

"You're welcome, Dougs," the drummer pulled his friend into a hug, kissing the fair hair jokingly.

Over the course of two months Tom lost many more items, ranging from socks to shirts, and including trousers, ties and shorts. The missing pieces would always mysteriously show up after a day that he had acknowledged their disappearance –in the most obvious places– and thus he couldn't say he really lost anything, but it was sure annoying and exhausting.

"I'm serious, you two. My Toy Story boxers are very dear to me," Tom sighed.

"Who would even steal those?" Harry snickered.

"Have you asked, Danny? Maybe he also has a thing for Disney stuff?" Dougie's voice sounded even enough to let Tom know he was serious, which the singer didn't reckon as a good sign.

"I'll go ask him," Tom sighed again. He made his way to Danny's room and knocked their secret code –each of the guys had a knock to know the other know who was at their door– very quickly.

No response. The door was unlocked, so Tom just pushed it slowly, not wanting to intrude his mate's privacy much.

"Dan, are you–" A soft moan silenced Tom. His eyes soon fell on the figure of Danny sprawled in bed –wearing only his underwear– with his eyes closed, headphones on, and holding some sort of fabric to his face.

"Tom..." Danny whimpered, back arched in a way that made his abs ripple, sniffing what Tom recognised as his Toy Story boxers. Tom's brain had barely registered that he had found what he had been looking for, when he realised that one of Danny's large hands had been hidden from vision, _fumbling_ _around _in the brunet's black underpants.

"He's–" Tom clamped a hand over his mouth, closing the door again, ever so slowly.

He dashed back to his room and threw himself onto bed, face all too hot from what he had witnessed and heart hammering his ribcage. One would think that after running into Dougie playing with himself multiple times it wouldn't be a problem to see another mate having _fun,_ but Tom _knew_ for a fact he wasn't in Dougie's thoughts then; he just couldn't say the same thing about Danny.

"Does that mean Dan fancies me?" The blond whispered to himself, thoughts running amok. A better question would be if he could _reciprocate_ the attraction Danny felt, though his answer was literally within his reach, if his hand just roamed a bit below his own navel, his own trousers a bit too taut. "Shit, I'll have to talk to him later," Tom bit his lips, suddenly feeling too hot.

Differently from Danny, he made sure his door was locked before getting to satisfy his body's urges_, _imagination going back to the scene he just watched on accident. If he could _help_ the blue-eyed boy with that, his clothes wouldn't be vanishing any more, and that was a good thing. For now, he would have to rely on his memories, much like Danny had been doing.

~Fin~

_A/N: Imagine your person A of you OTP has lost a piece of clothing (hoodie, socks, etc) and they've looked everywhere. They peek into Person B's room and see them getting off from the scent of their clothes, while saying Person A's name. Person A becomes flustered, and runs off to their room._


End file.
